Hecking In
by Laurie-ky
Summary: The Sentinel. Jim's boring day of doing paperwork at the PD is interrupted by a rather strange email from his friend and guide, Blair Sandburg.


**Fandom:**The Sentinel

**Characters: **Jim Ellison, Blair Sandburg, Simon Banks

**Title**: Hecking In

**Author:** Laurie

**Warnings**: None

**Rating**: K+

**Type:** Gen

**Story Notes:** Beta'ed by Jane Davitt. Her help was very much appreciated. Written for T. Verano's Birthday. Note: Parts of Blair's email were lifted verbatim from an email from T. Verano.

**Summary:** The Sentinel. Jim's boring day of doing paperwork at the PD is interrupted by a rather strange email from his friend and guide, Blair Sandburg. Dedicated to everybody who has ever spilled stuff on their keyboards.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**Hecking In**

Fed up with his paperwork, Jim idly moved his mouse over the symbol for the PD's email program and clicked it. Memo, memo, a half-assed joke forwarded from H, and something from his partner were in his inbox.

Sandburg was tucked away in his office at Rainier, braced for a tide of students to wash up at his desk during office hours. Nah – that only happened during the two days before midterms and finals. Sandburg was probably bored shitless, but why he was sending an email instead of calling on the phone?

He opened the email, wondering what kind of code word was in the subject line – hecking in? Was that some hip new phrase all the cool kids were saying? Well, probably not since Sandburg was using it. He was cute in a dorky way but uber-cool he was not. He made a note to ask Sandburg if hecking in was a geek term.

Jim glanced at the words Sandburg had written, shook his head, and then re-read them. Slowly. Grinning to himself, he hit print and made a detour to the printer before knocking politely on his captain's door.

Simon raised his voice and told him to enter. He looked up speculatively when Jim slid a paper on his desk.

"What's this, Jim?"

"A plea for help from Sandburg. Read it, Simon. If you can." And with that cryptic note, Jim pulled up a chair and got comfortable.

Simon muttered that he had a ton of paperwork to do, and didn't have time for a trip to the Sandburg Zone, but he adjusted his glasses and glanced at the email.

And shook his head.

"Has he forgotten how to type?"

"No, Simon. But I'll translate if you want." Simon nodded, and Jim turned the paper around and re-read the phrases.

_Dea Ji_

_an you do e a avor? I pilled oup on y keyboard and ried it a. Teh gave e a replaent one, but it doen't work worth hit. Typing letter I unpreditable and I' too frutrated to go bak and retype the stupid issing letters i they won't how up within two or three key-pounds. AAAAGGGH! I eel highly inoheent i I an't type freely damnit. (I need ommas not to mention all the other poradic letters WAILS)_

_ikey down on the third loor – Tehnial uppot owe e for helping hi do hi kid' aa – the paper you ill out or inanial aid. He' got ome old keyboad the PD in't uing. Ak him i I an have one? Would you bring it to e? I'll ake dinner or a week. Ending this o you an ee how deperate I a. Pleae Ji help a buddy out?_

_Blair andbug_

"He's missing a couple of letters, but here's what he wrote. Dear Jim, Can you do me a favor? I spilled soup – I've warned him about eating while working on the computer before – on my keyboard and fried its ass. Tech gave me a replacement one, but it doesn't work worth shit. Typing letters is unpredictable and I'm too frustrated to go back and retype the stupid missing letters if they won't show up within two or three key-pounds. AAAAGGGH!" Jim laughed. "That part comes through clearly enough."

He resumed reading aloud. "I feel highly incoherent if I can't type freely, damnit. (I need commas, not to mention all the other sporadic letters, WAILS) Mickey down on the third floor – technical support -- owes me for helping him do his kid's… Ah, I think it's the FAFSA – the paper you fill out for financial aid. He's got some old keyboards the PD isn't using. Ask him if I can have one? Would you bring it to me? I'll make dinner for a week. Sending this so you can see how desperate I am. Please, Jim. Help a buddy out?"

"Okay if I go to his rescue, Simon? There's nothing going on right now and I could use up some of my flex time."

Simon waved Jim off. "Go. Just be sure you catch up with the rest of your paperwork tomorrow. I need the report on the Miller case by Thursday." He chuckled. "Sandburg being hampered that way – it must feel like somebody tied his hands behind his back and expected him to be able to talk."

Jim pushed himself up from his chair and with a two-fingered salute to his boss, left Simon's office. He pulled out his cell phone and pressed the speed dial number for Sandburg's office number.

Sandburg's frustrated, 'Hello, Blair Sandburg' brought a grin to his face.

"Hey, Chief. I decoded your message and I'm hecking in with you. I'll bring you that keyboard, and then how about we play hooky from schoolwork and paperwork and go shoot some hoops, later maybe head to Mama Rizzo's to eat pizza and drink beer? Sound good to you, partner?"

Blair thought it was a fine idea; Jim grabbed his jacket and smiled happily at Brown, who was slogging through his own stack of files, as he escaped the bullpen and headed down to the third floor.

Now, this was his kind of rescue operation. He made a note to himself to 'heck' in with 'andbug' more often. Basketball, pizza, and beer – now that was a winning combination – if shared with a good friend.

The end.


End file.
